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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519835">The Sapphic Swann</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stewbacca94/pseuds/Stewbacca94'>Stewbacca94</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RWBY Reddit Ramblings [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Estrangement, Multi, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Divorce, Romance, Vancouver</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stewbacca94/pseuds/Stewbacca94</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the twin gifts of scandal and Hollywood hypocrisy destroy California's governor and tear his family apart, the matriarch of said family flees to her hometown to do two things; kick her alcoholism to the curb, and come to terms with her long-repressed lesbianism. A quick search online proves to be the start of a new journey in the life of Willow Schnee, nee Swann.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joanna Greenleaf/May Marigold, Marrow Amin/Fiona Thyme, Oscar Pine/Ruby Rose, Robyn Hill/Willow Schnee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RWBY Reddit Ramblings [32]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1262834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A New Nest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>Of all the personal revelations about the Schnee family the world woke up to at the start of July, Willow Schnee was strangely relieved that <em>her</em> secrets were the <em>least</em> scandalous things to be unveiled. Her getting outed as an alcoholic lesbian by her family's long-suffering, underpaid butler after <em>he</em> got fired had been summarily and conveniently drowned out, because the press were clamouring instead for the blood of her soon-to-be-ex-husband for a case of gerrymandering so blatant, the GOP that he led actually <em>couldn't</em> ignore it.</p><p>Still, it wouldn't have been so bad had all three of their children not come forward with <em>their</em> secrets about Jacques - the less said about those the better, really. It had taken all of Willow's patience to <em>just</em> serve Jacques with the divorce papers after that, instead of her preference of a grenade shoved up his dickhole without the pin. After all, as both her daughters attested, Willow was too drunk to even <em>know</em> about what went on, let alone partake in their patriarch's torment.</p><p>But as it was, Willow's little mistake of <em>not</em> realising she was lesbian instead of merely "curious" until menopause had kicked in, along with the not-so-little mistake of using alcohol as a coping mechanism for her husband's behaviour, was enough for the so-called "liberal" Hollywood elite to start painting her as a disingenuous lush, vainly trying to draw attention away from her wreck of a family life with a lie as transparent as the <em>former</em> Governor's smile. It was only a matter of days, hours even, before the gutter press did the same.</p><p>Despite a futile want to fix things with her children, Willow had quietly sold the family's old house to one of her few remaining friends in the city, arranged for Whitley to receive enough money for a deposit on an apartment and an electric scooter separate from his trust fund, and decided to vanish. Given that Whitley was a month or two away from following his sisters' lead by studying at UCLA and ceasing any and all contact with her, it was high time to leave the hypocrisy and vacuous, meaningless fame behind.</p><p>So it was on the eighth night of July that she sat in a Boeing's first class section, unbothered by anyone else as her departure from LAX was ready to take flight. Despite the nagging urge to use a glass of aged scotch to calm down, Willow had been told by her GP that complete avoidance was necessary if she wished to see her golden years. So instead, as the plane began to taxi onto the runway, Willow shoved her headphones on and allowed the strains of Eugene Ormandy's orchestral take on <em>Clair de Lune </em>to soothe her nerves.</p><p>As the plane took off, Willow held back tears of relief and joy as a quarter of a century's lies and pain were ripped from the millstone of guilt slung on her neck. Her hometown of Vancouver now beckoned her, and so did the rehabilitation clinic she'd booked into.</p><hr/><p>The following month passed like a blur. Between the withdrawal symptoms and the AA meetings she was compelled to attend, Willow barely registered the events of the world outside. The single saving grace was that her divorce suit had passed through the courts faster than a lamb vindaloo passed through a drunkard's innards. Then again, the cavalcade of charges her ex-husband had been arraigned for probably helped speed it up. But despite the unfamiliar surroundings, dispassionate medicos and a unrelenting feeling of loneliness that haunted her every step, Willow had finally managed to kick a decade-long habit, and now stood outside her father's old house, which was the only property solely in her name after the split.</p><p>It was a modest two-story house that sat on 140th Street, overlooking the parklands between Surrey and Johnson Heights. Despite its rare use, the well-maintained yards and spotless interior she saw through the window told the older lesbian that the young lad next door was worth keeping on as an unofficial caretaker. Without fail, he'd kept watch over the property since it came into Willow's possession nearly two years ago, and it was he that noticed her arrival.</p><p>"Willow?"</p><p>Willow spun round, and spotted the voice's tanned owner. "Oscar, so good to see you again! How's life treating you?"</p><p>Oscar smiled as he walked over from his aunt's front yard. "Pretty well, actually. I've just started studying environmental engineering at UBC."</p><p>"Well done!", Willow congratulated as she shook his hand. "Making new friends there?"</p><p>Oscar blushed. "Well ... not just that. I started seeing a girl too."</p><p>"That's nice to hear," Willow admitted. "Is she studying as well?"</p><p>"Yes; Ruby's doing physics at the same campus. Want to see a picture?"</p><p>Willow nodded, and Oscar quickly fished out his phone. The sight that greeted Willow was heartwarming. Oscar's green eyes and easy smile were outshone by the grin of the girl whose arm was draped around him, her grey eyes exuding a sense of unbridled optimism beneath the auburn hair.</p><p>"A nice choice, Oscar. How'd you meet her?"</p><p>"Well, I used an app called Bumble. It's for serious dating and so on, so matches only last for twenty-four hours before they're gone. But the best thing is that women are the ones who make the first move on here - and it's suitable for straight and lesbian match-ups too."</p><p>Willow seemed impressed, and a glance confirmed that Oscar had heard about what happened to her. "Well, I'm glad online dating's worked for you. I can't say I've ever felt safe about letting m-my kids use those things for it - but then again, dating was probably dangerous enough for them."</p><p>"Indeed," Oscar replied, before looking concerned. "I hope that they're OK after that malarkey."</p><p>"They - they should be," Willow replied; after all, Winter and Weiss only used their trust fund money for education fees and therapy. Given that Whitley's apartment had three bedrooms, it wouldn't be a stretch to think they'd moved in with him while their studies in medicine and law continued. A beeping noise dragged Willow out of her introspection, as Oscar looked at his watch.</p><p>"<em>Christ</em>, I'm running late for the next lecture. Well, I'd better get moving. Hope the garden's to your liking, Willow!"</p><p>Willow nodded with a small smile as Oscar ran to fetch his bike. "Trust me, I love what I've seen so far. Have a good day, Oscar."</p><hr/><p>Entering the house at last, Willow quickly placed her bags in the dumbwaiter and sent it upstairs to the main bedroom. Sitting down on the couch, a painful realisation crept up on Willow after finding out the shy boy who did her garden had better luck in love than she did. Despite having all the time in the world and enough money to live comfortably in retirement for the rest of her years, Willow now knew that she needed to discover a zest for life, lest she grow bored and fall off the wagon once again. However, this had a silver lining; with the divorce and estrangement in place, Willow was freed up to actually discover herself again - and finding a lady to share life with was quickly established to be her first order of business.</p><p>Thinking things over as she idly flipped cable channels, Willow reasoned that clandestine hook-ups, like those she'd had with plenty of Hollywood actresses and models over the years, wouldn't satisfy her needs now. Sobriety had endowed Willow with enough maturity to realise that those escapades were only exciting <em>because</em> of their infrequency - after all, being California's First Lady was oftentimes a busy role - and also because of the dishonesty towards Jacques that was involved. But now, with the aforesaid moustachioed embuggerance out of the way, looking for commitment seemed the best policy.</p><p>Bearing Oscar's success story in mind, Willow downloaded Bumble and set her profile up, then set off to boil a cup of Chamomile after leaving her phone on the coffee table and the TV on the golf. When she came back, someone had matched with her and had already made the first move, much to Willow's surprise. She gripped the phone and tentatively peered at the notification, before deciding to take a squizz at the sender's profile.</p><p>"This looks interesting," Willow noted as she regarded the appearance of the woman who'd requested a first meeting. A striking jawline was the first thing she'd noticed, with champagne-blonde hair and a cheeky smile catching her eye after that. The lady's profile allowed Willow to glean that the woman in question was called Robyn Hill, a thirty-year-old hailing from Winnipeg who taught sociology and politics at a nearby high school.</p><p>Swallowing down her uncertainty, Willow humbly requested a meet-up at the Tim Horton's up the road from the woman's workplace. Being a true-born Canadian, her admirer agreed to see Willow at quarter to five that afternoon. For the first time in decades, Willow took joy in picking out her outfit and dolling herself up for a date, marveling at the fact she wasn't smiling on command anymore as she applied the faintest touch of make-up to her pale features.</p><p>At 4:42 that afternoon, the newly-renamed Willow Swann parked her blue Impreza and swanned into the coffee house like she owned it. A white blouse lay beneath a lilac vest, with a matching skirt offsetting her black heels and tights; Willow's outfit gave no doubt about her classiness, but it was enough to tantalise the lady she was waiting for. Before that though, Willow got a kick out of watching the pimply server force himself to keep his eyes above her neck, smiling placidly as he nervously handed her default flat white with one, along with the stevia-laced chai latte that Robyn swore by. Willow sat down by the south-eastern window and idly watched the traffic go by on a calm autumn's afternoon.</p><p>And then <em>she</em> walked in.</p><p>Willow turned to the door, and was struck dumb at how <em>tall</em> the woman was. The way those well-tailored jeans and black boots hugged a pair of perfect legs threatened to set Willow's libido into overdrive, and the brown bomber jacket and white top weren't helping her either. And as for that smile ... well, Willow knew now that all the money, class and manners in the world would not change her status as a useless lesbian.</p><p>"Willow?", the lady asked.</p><p>"That's me," Willow replied, extending her hand. "You must be Robyn."</p><p>"Indeed. Robyn Hill, at your service," the tall woman replied, shaking Willow's hand gently, and then noticed the chai latte on the table, her expression lighting up like a burning Christmas tree. "You bought a teacher a chai latte on a Friday?" The smile turned seductive. "You had my interest, but <em>now</em> you've got my attention."</p><p>Willow laughed at the Tarantino reference as she led her date to the table. Somehow, she just knew that this would not be the last day she saw Robyn Hill.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>A/N: An expanded, improved version of something I wrote for this week's writing prompt challenge. Will be adding chapters to this one sporadically, and it probably won't be too long.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Hope you guys like this one.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>EDIT: Made some cover art for this with Artbreeder.</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Fantabulous Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p class="western">The meet-up at the local Tim Horton’s went remarkably well, much to Willow’s relief. The easiest hour and a half of conversation she’d experienced in nearly a decade had been appended by a promise to head out to an Italian restaurant in town the following Thursday. If that weren’t enough, Willow’s libido nearly broke its banks after Robyn kissed her older woman’s cheek before riding her Kawasaki Ninja eastward to her apartment in Fleetwood. Willow hadn’t stopped smiling until after she’d woken up the next morning.</p><p class="western">As it transpired, Robyn had been blissfully unaware of the scandal-riddled life Willow had led prior to coming home. Not that Willow wouldn’t have talked about her old life had she been prompted about it, but meeting someone unaware of her troubles was a godsend that Willow was going to treasure for as long as she could.</p><p class="western">So now she awaited her paramour outside her house, with a hastily-ordered motorcycle helmet tucked beneath her arm for her safety. Much to her surprise, the roar that soon bellowed down the street didn’t belong to the Ninja; instead, Robyn arrived outside in a well-travelled olive-green Camry. Robyn was confused for a brief moment as she pulled up, but began to laugh at the situation gently as Willow got in.</p><p class="western">“Sorry Willow”, Robyn started through her laughter as Willow threw the helmet into the back seat. “I should’ve told you I wasn’t taking my bike. Good to see you prepared for it, though.”</p><p class="western">“It’s alright, sweet Robyn,” Willow replied before kissing her lover’s cheek. “I’m glad to be chauffeured into town in style, although I was looking forward to riding a motorbike for the first time.”</p><p class="western">Robyn nodded as the Camry moved onto the open road. “We could do that soon enough, Willow. I’m pleased that you’re game enough to try anything once.”</p><p class="western">Willow was both amused and aroused at the innuendo. “We’ll see how true that holds soon enough, sweet Robyn,” she purred seductively.</p><p class="western">Robyn’s reaction was one to savour. The taller lady looked stunned while her features blushed purple, and Willow giggled as Robyn willed herself to concentrate on the road. As the first strains of “Message to My Girl” eked through the car radio, the car hit King George Boulevard as it snaked towards the city centre and gave the women full view of a wistful and lush autumn sunset. Willow found herself bobbing her head along to the under-rated magnum opus before Robyn began to sing the song beneath her breath, and Willow yearned for the moment to last forever as she softly placed her hand on Robyn’s left leg.</p><hr/><p class="western">Half an hour later, the pair had arrived at the front entrance of Belladonna’s Italian, one of the finest ethnic restaurants in British Columbia despite its lack of upper-crust clientele. The first-floor Granville Island restaurant was the wet dream of Art Deco designers, and Willow swore at that moment to never take her new partner anywhere that the likes of her former fair-weather friends would’ve deigned to dine at.</p><p class="western">“How did you find out about this place, Robyn?”, Willow asked.</p><p class="western">“One of my former students is set to inherit the restaurant from her parents,” Robyn explained. “She still wants to work in journalism though.”</p><p class="western">“It’s lucky that she’s got a safety net with this business,” Willow noted as the duo entered. “I hope she manages to succeed in whatever she wants to set her heart to.”</p><p class="western">She then saw the student in question at the server’s station, looking embarrassed in her waitressing get-up. Before Willow could apologise, Robyn took the lead.</p><p class="western">“Good to see you again, Blake,” she greeted while shaking hands. “I hope the cadetship’s going well?”</p><p class="western">“It definitely is, Miss Hill,” Blake replied as she regained her nerve. “Shall I show you and your plus-one to your table?”</p><p class="western">“Yes please,” Robyn responded, and Blake ushered the older ladies to a seat overlooking the below them. Robyn tucked Willow into her seat without a word, then sat down comfortably on hers. Blake handed over a menu to Willow, knowing Robyn’s second date order off the back of her hand. Jotting down Willow’s order, Blake calmly headed for the kitchen to fetch their drinks.</p><p class="western">“The service is impeccable,” Willow noted. “If the food’s just as good, I’m definitely coming back here.”</p><p class="western">“And believe me, it <em>is </em>equally good,” Robyn replied. “I always love relatively simple food, cooked perfectly – and the staff at Belladonna’s are masters at it.”</p><p class="western">A minute later, Blake came back with the drinks. In lieu of any alcohol, Willow had settled for a glass of OJ while Robyn had half a pint of lemonade to quaff. Blake also dropped off the cutlery before scurrying back to the serving station.</p><p class="western">“To us,” Willow offered.</p><p class="western">“To us,” Robyn replied, clinking the glasses before each of them took a draught.</p><p class="western">“So Willow,” the taller lady continued, “I forgot to ask when we first met; what do you do for a living?”</p><p class="western">“I just retired from a bureaucratic job in California,” Willow explained, the half-truth coming easily. “I’ve got enough saved to live comfortably, but I am looking for something new to do with my time now I’m back in my hometown.”</p><p class="western">“I <em>see</em>,” Robyn replied, clearly not expecting to hear that Willow had finished her working life. “Maybe volunteering might be something to look into.”</p><p class="western">“You think so?”</p><p class="western">“Oh <em>absolutely</em>,” Robyn extolled. “A couple of my friends still volunteer despite working in local government – it’s usually a good way to get out in the world and make a difference.”</p><p class="western">Willow nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Interesting. Do you do much besides work?”</p><p class="western">“Pfft. I’m lucky to get one afternoon off for a week. I’ll listen to matches with the Blue Jays or the Canucks while I’m commuting or grading homework, though.”</p><p class="western">Willow was surprised. “Really? No love for the Jets?”</p><p class="western">Robyn snorted. “Nah; I moved out here when I was twelve, and felt more at home here than anywhere else. It’s the Canucks or nothing for me these days.”</p><hr/><p class="western">After half an hour of sport and philosophical talk, their orders had arrived courtesy of Blake. Willow received a chicken parmigana and tossed salad with a fettuccini alfredo appetiser, while Robyn got her usual duo of shrimp scampi and penne bolognese.</p><p class="western">“Bon appetit!”, the pair of women said to one another before tucking in.</p><p class="western">True to Robyn’s word, the food was magnificent. Willow was rarely served an alfredo sauce that matched the one her mother used to make, and this was one of those occasions. Of course, the chicken was cooked and crumbed to perfection and the sauce had the homemade charm down pat, but Willow was a sucker for a white pasta dish. Robyn’s satisfied moans, meanwhile, indicated that her second date order was impeccable as always.</p><p class="western">As the dinner was chipped away, the conversation drifted to the neighbours both women had, and Willow was intrigued to learn that Robyn’s neighbours on both sides were all part of the non-straight community in the city. Marrow hailed from Toronto and worked as a secretary for a tax law firm, while his girlfriend Fiona was a hairdresser who’d never strayed from Vancouver – and both were asexual. May, a transgendered woman, lived on the other side of Robyn’s home with her fiance Joanna, and the pair of Manitoba natives worked for the local council.</p><p class="western">Willow leaned back as Robyn finished explaining all of that. “I must say, I’m looking forward to meeting them. They sound like a really fun crowd.”</p><p class="western">“Trust me, they are,” Robyn averred. “Fiona’s 21<sup>st</sup> is coming up two weekends from now; I’ll ask if I can bring you along.”</p><p class="western">Willow smiled tenderly. “How thoughtful; I’ll be sure to keep that part of the calendar free.”</p><p class="western">A sudden sound drew Willow’s attention towards a small stage on the far side of the restaurant, which had been covered by a black curtain until seconds ago.</p><p class="western">“Dinner and a show, huh?”, Willow asked.</p><p class="western">“Unintentionally,” Robyn replied. “I’ve never seen a band play here before.”</p><p class="western">“That’s because it’s a new thing my dad wanted to try out to bring in more customers,” Blake said as she arrived with refills for the drinks. “That, and I’ve been seeing this band’s drummer for six months.”</p><p class="western">Sure enough, a blonde gym monkey with a friendly smile sat behind a small drum set, designed to be packed away like a Russian doll for convenience. To his left, a man of Samoan stock held an electric upright bass with five strings, while the ginger man on the opposite side sat next to a digital piano. In front of them all stood a man with blue eyes and Greek features holding an electric guitar, next to a microphone.</p><p class="western">After the frontman invited the rather more packed restaurant to dance if they pleased, the band started to play Moondance. Robyn wordlessly held a hand to Willow, and the older woman felt giddy as her favourite Van Morrison hit quickly became <em>their </em>song. Blake smiled at the sight, before willing herself to ignore the abs she’d grown accustomed to leaning into post-coitus as she continued to work.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <strong>A/N: I'm not too experienced at writing multi-chapter romance stories, so I hope this comes off alright.</strong>
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